


You've Always Had Permission

by bigredcrazyk



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Euthanasia, M/M, Stiles Stilinski Gets Bitten, The Walking Dead AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-08 03:58:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3194480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigredcrazyk/pseuds/bigredcrazyk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While defending their camp from a hoard of walkers, Stiles makes a fatal mistake that costs him everything, and after wishing his loved ones farewell, it's Derek he chooses to carry out his execution, but a few things need to be said before the inevitable...</p>
            </blockquote>





	You've Always Had Permission

**Author's Note:**

> Was in my feels last night and came up with this ficlet based loosely on the first season of The Walking Dead. It's tragic and beautiful. Not gonna lie, I cried a little while writing it. Be prepared to have your heart smashed into tiny bits. Hope you enjoy it all the same. :P
> 
> *Special thanks to [bleep0bleep](http://bleep0bleep.tumblr.com/) for proofing it in the wee hours of the morning*

Their camp was overrun, but of all the people to get bitten, Stiles never imagined it’d have been him. He even had a plan of action if it were to happen; to sever the arm or leg and cauterize the wound before the infection had time to take root, but with this bite, on the right side of his abdomen, there was nothing to cut off. The bite was his death sentence; no getting around it regardless of how much he wished it weren’t so.

The others were devastated when they realized what had transpired. Scott wept the most, but Lydia did as well. Isaac got angry to the point of rage. He violently sought the end of all the walkers in the immediate vicinity to exact some form of justified revenge. And Derek… who remained quiet, mostly expressionless, but his eyes gave away his grief. Of all those close to Stiles, Derek stood the most to lose; so many things unsaid, so many moments stolen from whatever their unrecognized relationship was. It’s not like they were ever intimate, however, there was no denying the potential given they had more time to explore it, but with the undead on their ankles at every turn, romance didn’t have much chance to thrive.

Due to the area becoming exceedingly dangerous with more frequent biter attacks, the decision was made to move on that day, but while everyone collected supplies and packed up their gear, Stiles spent the afternoon silently digging his own grave. The smoke of a funeral pyre would draw undesired attention, and because he didn’t want the others to waste their energy on him, he chose to do it himself. What he hadn’t expected was for many of them to halt their actions to watch with mournful eyes, paying their last respects. Before he realized it, nearly three dozen had gathered, all of their troop, holding hands, praying, wishing him remorseful farewells. It made him swell with an odd sense of pride and dignity in those final hours.

By the time he finished, the group was ready to move on, planning to drive through the night to put as much distance between themselves and that place as possible. With a general destination in mind, a single vehicle remained for the few who stayed behind to bury Stiles; Scott, Isaac, Boyd, and Derek. Although they’d already allocated his possessions out to others that needed them, Stiles was left to give the four something he had on hand, something to remember him by, and because he didn’t have much of sentimental value, he had to make due with what was available. Scott and Isaac each received a bootlace that he tied around their wrists, he gave Boyd his bandana, and after saying their goodbyes and wishing them luck, Stiles requested that they give he and Derek a bit of space, for Derek would be the one to put him down.

Once the others trudged off, they sat beside his empty grave with and he handed Derek his father’s revolver. “I want you to have this,” he stated quietly. “It’s the only thing I have left of my dad. I know you’ll keep it safe.”

Derek nodded somberly and whispered, “I’ll guard it with my life.”

A single tear trickled down Stiles’ face as he gazed at Derek longingly. “I wish we had more time,” he breathed. “It’s my only regret.”

The elder of the two frowned, wiped away the tear with his thumb, and affectionately cupped Stiles’ cheek. The youth allowed his lids to fall shut, enjoying the feel of Derek’s hand on his skin. “I know,” Derek replied in a hushed tone. “I’m sorry I never acted on my feelings. Just to have the chance to be with you one time…” he trailed off, becoming choked up. “I’m so sorry.”

Stiles drew in a haggard breath and exhaled slowly. His eyes fluttered back open, glistening as they threatened to spill over. “Remember that night, ‘bout a month ago? We almost did,” he said with a smile, removing Derek’s hand from his cheek so that he could hold it. Their fingers laced together, Stiles gently thumbing Derek’s palm.

The man mirrored his strained smile, whispering again, “Yeah… I don’t know why I didn’t kiss you.”

“ _Well_ ,” the boy hissed, “now’s your last chance.”

Derek hesitated, staring into Stiles’ swimming orbs. “Are you giving permission?”

Stiles smacked his lips together and snorted, “Such a gentleman…” He paused, his expression growing more sober as he added, “You’ve always had permission.”

Without further pause, Derek moved his hand to Stiles’ nape as he leaned in. Their eyes closed simultaneously and he pressed his lips to the boy’s. The tiniest of whimpers escaped Stiles as it happened, his tears flowing freely, and he possessively threw his arms around Derek’s broad shoulders. This was everything he ever desired, but knowing it couldn’t last beyond that moment made it far more bittersweet than it should have been.

The kiss deepened, their tongues touching for the first time; the last time. Derek’s taste was hearty, savory, velvety despite his rugged exterior. He kissed with passion, and perhaps a little remorse, putting forth every emotion he had onto the tip of his tongue. It took Stiles’ breath away, although lasting no more than half a minute. Derek ended the kiss with a few chaste pecks and then bowed Stiles’ face so he could plant the final kiss to his forehead.

Stiles could do nothing but cry. He attempted to resist the tears, but the way Derek’s lips lingered over his brow broke him. After, as he raised his head to meet Derek’s gaze, he was shattered by the fact that he, too, was weeping. They held each other for a short while, soft sniffles in the fading dusk light, but Stiles knew his time had run out. If Derek and the others didn’t hit the road soon, they’d run the risk of becoming separated from the group.

He steadied himself, wiping his damp face, and after giving Derek a knowing glance, he stated, “I’m ready. You have to bury me quick. The walkers’ll be drawn to the sound of the shot.”

Derek already knew this, but nodded all the same. Then Stiles laid down next to the grave so that they could easily roll him in, and Derek knelt beside him. He withdrew his pistol from the holster tucked below his left arm, but Stiles could see that his hands were shaking badly. He rested his palm on Derek’s trembling thigh, attempting to soothe his nerves.

“It’s okay,” he told the man as they both began to cry once more. “I love you, Derek.”

“I love you, too,” Derek sobbed. He took Stiles’ hand in his own, squeezing it firmly. “Now close your eyes. Imagine us together, in a safe place far away from here.”

Stiles did as directed, a peaceful smile spanning his lips. He felt the nozzle of the gun press to his temple, and the last thing he heard was the click of the trigger, but he was already miles away in Derek’s warm embrace.

 


End file.
